


Twitterpated

by dormiensa



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bets & Wagers, Blackmail, Dubious Consent, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Jealousy, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Content, Parody, Plot Based on Book/Film, Post-Hogwarts, Psychological Trauma, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2014-12-15
Packaged: 2018-03-22 06:43:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3718987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dormiensa/pseuds/dormiensa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione and Draco have a lovers’ tiff over an old Malfoy wedding tradition.  In anger and spite, Draco enlists the Weasley twins to help him play a trick on his fiancée.  Naturally, the twins are not about to adhere to the one-prank rule…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Act I

**Author's Note:**

> Remix of: Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream   
> Beta: pagan   
> Special thanks: withdrawnred and Unseenlibrarian; margaritama for the original flying quote and "...walking into a bar..." joke.

“No, I will not! I absolutely refuse to perform such an archaic and demeaning ritual!”

“It’s a family tradition, Hermione! When you told me about the stupid garter and bouquet throwing bits, _I_ agreed!”

“ _Stupid?_ It’s not stupid! It’s trad—”

“ _Tradition._ Now who’s the hypocrite?”

“Well, at least the garter-throwing doesn’t demean you in any way!”

“No, it _embarrasses_ me. And it’ll embarrass my family. Who ever heard of a Malfoy bride allowing the whole assembly to see her husband dive under her skirts and pretend to retrieve her knickers? And why aren’t _your_ ‘feminist’ sensibilities offended by it?”

“It’s just a bit of fun! You’re such a snob! _And_ a hypocrite. Look me in the eye and _tell_ me you weren’t planning on pulling me into some dark corner during the reception and having me against the wall, just to see if any of the guests would catch us in the act?”

“At this point, I’m not sure I even want to consummate our marriage the same night, your harpy highness!”

“Well, why don’t we just call off the whole thing, save us—”

“What is going on? Why are you two arguing? We were about to do the toast when I realized the two of you were missing.”

“She won’t perform the family tradition, Mum!”

“It’s barbaric!”

“Hermione, dear, I do understand your indignation. I was somewhat taken aback myself when Lucius informed me of it. But as my parents were sticklers for tradition, I had no choice but to obey. But perhaps we can discuss it _after tonight’s party._ Really, Draco, you have such terrible timing with conveying this kind of news.”

“It wasn’t me, Mummy! Great-Aunt Eugenia was the one who blabbed it!”

“You told me that Hermione had agreed to perform it!”

“No, I said she’d have no problem with it. And I didn’t _think_ she would!”

“Tell me, Draki-kins, when _were_ you planning on telling Hermione?”

Draco saw the glint in his mother’s eyes and bowed his head. He replied, sulkily, “A week before the wedding. That way, she wouldn’t have time to refuse.”

“You are unbelievable, Draco “ _kobalos_ ” Malfoy! If you think that I’m going to meekly submit to your high-handedness, then perhaps you should re-consider who you’re marrying!” With that, Hermione stalked off.

“ _Impedimenta!_ Really! Both of you are acting like spoiled, two-year-old brats! You _will not_ embarrass your parents this way, Draco. And _you_ , Hermione, do you really want to give your guests more reason to talk behind your back about how they ‘always knew’ that things would not work out between you when the time came? I have already said that we will discuss this later— _civilly._ Meanwhile, I want you both to set aside any differences and _pretend_ that everything is fine between you. A harmonic front should always be shown. Archaic as that concept may seem, it is also common sense. And if neither of you can understand such a simple rule, then perhaps you _are_ too young to be married.

“Now, are you going to behave, or will Edmund, Charmaine, Lucius, and I have the ‘privilege’ of announcing that the wedding is off and escorting our guests off the premises?”

Thus admonished, the young couple grumpily rearranged their expressions. Narcissa removed the jinx, and Draco held out his arm to his fiancée. 

For the remainder of the night, unless required to be together, Draco and Hermione avoided one another.

***

Fred and George sported identical expressions of astonishment as they became aware of the person walking into their shop.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t our favourite pussy-whipped prat of Slytherin!”

“Indeed. How kind of you to grace us with your presence this fine day.”

“Sod it, you two. I have a business proposition to discuss with you, but if you feel thus affronted by my presence, perhaps I can convince your charming sister to execute the prank for me.”

“Prank? Oh, do forgive our incivility. Perhaps you would like to step into our office and tell us all about it?”

Draco followed them into the back room. Without mincing words, he told them, “Hermione is being stubborn about following a small, insignificant family tradition.”

“From how she ranted to Ginny, I wouldn’t call it insignificant, ol’ boy.”

“Yes, there was talk about calling off the wedding.”

Draco glared at them. “In any case, I thought I would help her change her mind. To that effect, I’m asking that you add two drops of this”—he removed a square bottle from his robes—“into her drink during Sunday Brunch tomorrow. I shall be absent as we are currently not on speaking terms. 

“This is a modified lust potion that I created in order to play an April Fool’s prank on my fellow Slytherins. Like the regular variety, you’ll need some sample from the object of the lust. The potion causes the affected person to lust after another and only wears off when they’ve seen their object’s naked genitals or the antidote has been given, whichever happens first. One drop only causes mild infatuation and will likely carry on for about four or five days; two causes the affected person to enact all sorts of increasingly ‘brave’ feats to get the attention of the object. Three, well, let’s just say that Nott and Bulstrode got detention for indecent exposure in the hallway. 

“It was most amusing to see the looks of horror in one or both faces after the effects of the potion were removed. They remembered everything they did, of course, and especially when such behaviour was unusual for them. And some were. 

“I’m obviously giving you more than enough, in case your first few attempts fail. Don’t put more than two drops, if you please. And do make sure that the hair or toe-nail clipping you obtain from your ickle youngest brother truly _does_ belong to him. You’ll forgive my scepticism, but I don’t think I’d appreciate seeing my fiancée hankering after one of you or your stuffed-shirt brother, Percy.”

The smiles that Fred and George had cracked at the words “modified lust potion” now threatened to split their faces. George caressed the bottle lovingly, tucking it safely into an inner vest pocket. Fred, with mock seriousness, asked if Draco would sell the recipe to them. Draco smirked and said negotiations were possible but contingent on the twins’ success in making Hermione lust after the unsuspecting Ron.

***

After getting Harry to give cups of the hot cocoa that they were making “for everyone” to Hermione and Ginny—strategically placed in each of Harry’s hands, naturally—the twins retreated to their old room.

“George, I think it would be a crime to let all this potion go to waste.”

“Malfoy needs to have more faith in people. To think that we would fail a prank on the first attempt. Slytherins!”

“Now, he did say that he might sell the recipe to us, so it would only be sensible for us to test out the prototype, do a bit of… “

“Market research!” They whooped in chorus and high-fived each other. 

“Now, we need a venue—”

“How convenient that the Hogwarts Re-opening Ball is next weekend. And we shouldn’t limit ourselves to just one potion.”

“We need to see how it interacts with other similar potions—that’s only sensible—to make sure there are no adverse effects.”

“And it would be best to leave things to chance. After all, one can never tell who one will fall in love or lust with—”

“So, let’s start with six of each sex for a maximum of twelve pairs, a manageable number—”

“Embedding the potion into a sweet will be less messy than a drink—”

“No one can resist chocoballs—”

“Especially if they are handed out by trustworthy people—”

“Like Lee and Angelina. Though we probably shouldn’t tell Angie about the special ingredients—”

“But we’ll need Lee to help with the research. Four pairs for each of us is doable, especially in an enclosed space.”

“Good thing it’s just a matter of embedding a strand of hair into the chocoball—much simpler than brewing a Polyjuice for a whole month.”

“Shall I collect the samples from six unsuspecting witches?”

“You’ve always been more the ladies’ man, even though I’m more handsome.”

“Ah, but that’s why you have the steady girl. I must leave my heart vulnerable to Cupid’s whims.”

“Well, I shall have a word with him; see if we can’t get you a girl at the Ball.”

“Make sure she has a sense of humour. I don’t fancy falling in love with Percy’s soulmate.”

“That will depend on how pretty you make those chocoballs.”

“Worry about the attractiveness of those wizards. Wouldn’t want to inflict Goyle on anyone.”

“Although, now that you’ve brought it up, we _do_ have a score to settle with Flint…”

“And we really should help poor Neville pop his cherry, even if he thinks he doesn’t need the push. A small thanks for helping us improve our Murtlap lotion.”

“Well, what are you waiting for? Rome wasn’t built in a day and certainly not by standing around nattering.”

“Meet you back here in two hours.”

***

A tired and sweaty Ron plopped into his favourite chair. Quidditch always wore him out. The twins were more exuberant than usual, attempting to hit him with Bludgers about as often as they did Ginny and Bill. And given their limited numbers, he’d had to be Keeper for both teams and try to keep the scores straight in his head.

“Tea, Ron?”

“Yeah, thanks, ’Mione.” He took a sip from the proffered cup and then choked on it when Hermione suddenly straddled him. “’Mione, what are you doing?”

“Just congratulating you on such a great performance today. You were amazing as Keeper.” 

Ron turned his head to one side and tried to push at her shoulders to keep her at arm’s length when it became obvious that he was to be “rewarded” with a kiss. “’Mione, not that I don’t appreciate your affections, but this is a bit—I don’t fancy Malfoy getting any wrong impressions and getting into one of his jealous snits.”

“Now, why would you mention Malfoy at a time like this? Ruins the mood. You need to work on your timing, Ronnie-love.” 

“Have you gone mad, ’Mione? Much as I don’t care to be reminded of it, you’re engaged to the prat!”

Hermione stopped her attempts to wind her arms around him and frowned. “Why would you even say something so ridiculous like that? Not funny, Ronald.”

Exasperated, Ron grabbed her left hand and brought it up to eye level. “See? That’s the ring he gave you!”

Hermione gave him a worried look. She pressed her palm against his forehead and then began feeling about his skull. “No fever. No obvious bumps. But that can’t rule out concussion. Come, Ron darling, we need to bring you to St. Mungo’s to get you checked out. A concussion can be serious. Now is _not_ the time to act brave, Ron! Stop pulling and get up. I’m going to yell for Molly if you don’t behave!” 

Ron, by now, was panicking ever so slightly. “Listen, ’Mione, I’m fine. Really. But you may be right about the bump. The back of my head kind of hurts. Be a doll and get me some ice?”

“Of course, Ronnie-kins. Now, you just stay put while I get the ice. Don’t move or you’ll make it worse.” Before he could stop her, Hermione planted a kiss on his forehead and disappeared from sight. Ron sprang from the chair and grabbed the pot of Floo powder.

Unbeknownst to both, Fred and George had been spying on them from the stairs. Their muffled snickers now turned into gasping guffaws as they saw their harrassed brother disappear through the fireplace. 

“We’d better hide before Hermione returns, funny though her forlorn expression would be to see.”

***

Hermione seemed unusually subdued over dinner, but most of the family chalked it down to her missing her fiancé. None of them had witnessed her behaviour toward Ron, after all. The twins had made excuses for Ron’s absence to their mother and had scrutinized Hermione’s every reaction whenever their ickle brother’s name was mentioned at the dinner table. 

When dinner was over and the table cleared, Fred muttered to his twin that he would go and store away the chocoballs back at their flat. George dutifully stayed to help clean up.

“Oh, George dear, you haven’t finished your pumpkin juice. Here you are. And you haven’t forgotten that you promised to help your dad clean out the shed tomorrow? You’ve already put that off for two weeks, and we really need to have that thing tidied up for—”

“Yes, yes, Mum, I promise! I need to go find Fred; we need to buy some supplies for the shop, and this is the only day our supplier is free. Thanks for dinner!” With a quick peck on her cheek, George almost ran out of the kitchen to Floo back to the flat above the shop. Had he looked back, he would’ve been disquieted to see an evil grin, identical to his own, smiling from his mum’s face. 

An hour later, Fred walked into the door of their shared flat, making an excuse that he forgot to buy the brushes with which to decorate the chocoballs. It was a good thing that George wasn’t paying him much attention because when he got to his room, he realized he’d forgotten to take off his mum’s cardigan.


	2. Act II

Draco smirked as he watched Hermione disappear down the corridor in a huff. She had acted exactly as expected, and by afternoon, everyone in the Ministry would know they’d had a falling out. She was so easy to bait, especially when she was out of love with him. He savoured the feeling of nostalgia: this was what it had been like back at Hogwarts. He noticed that the ring was missing as well. He turned on his heels and ducked into the first niche, Disillusioning himself before stepping out again and heading in her direction. For the umpteenth time, he thanked the stars that he was merely a consultant on “special projects” with the Department of Mysteries and could, therefore, set his own work hours. He’d owl’d early that morning that he would be absent from the office for the next three days. He wouldn’t miss a moment of the fun.

Hermione spent the morning pacing about her office and jotting down notes on everything she knew about the Weasel King. The lists were quite extensive and some information Draco could’ve died without knowing. No matter: future blackmail material. He’d have to make sure to store those safely away at some point. 

At lunch, Hermione sat so close to Ron that he was forced to sit up straighter and eat more slowly to minimize the amount of elbow bumping. Harry looked thoroughly confused. When she began fiddling with Ron’s hair, the vicious whispers around the Caf began. The snide comments about her finally coming to her senses irked Draco a bit, but he soon brushed them off as the idle chatter of embittered old hags with no life of their own. He almost laughed out loud when Ron, increasingly desperate to put some distance between himself and Hermione, nearly fell off the bench, at which point the fool grabbed Harry and beat a hasty retreat to their work stations. 

That afternoon, whenever Hermione couldn’t concentrate on her work, she spent her time writing silly memos to Ron to give her excuses to drop by the Auror Office. After her third attempt to chat him up, Ron had to make sure that he was never alone in the office. Harry, having gotten wind of the rumours flying about, did his best to distract Hermione and convince her to get back to work. He even pulled some strings to make sure that he and Ron left work by an undisclosed exit. 

Hermione sat at the desk in her flat composing erotic poems to Ron that night.

***

“Are you sure that’s all the Jelly Slugs you need for your Fwooper, Luna? There’s plenty more! I’ll give you an extra discount.”

“No, it’s fine. If I buy too much, she’ll gorge on them until she’s sick. I’ll come back when I need more.”

“Come back anytime! Verity, ring in Luna’s purchases, will you, and give her a 50% discount?” 

Verity stared in disbelief for a moment before doing as she was told. Fred had been re-stocking the upper shelves and nearly fell off the ladder in shock. George seemed completely unaware of his unusual behaviour and fussed over finding the perfect bag to hold Luna’s treats. He led her to the door and kissed the back of her hand as she left. Luna smiled her serene smile and waved goodbye. 

“George? George! Hey, handsome brother of mine! This is ridiculous…Percy’s hair is on fire!”

“What? Where? Now why would you go and get my hopes up like that?”

“I called you three times, and you just stood there like a troll. We need to finish ‘the new project’, and you’re wasting time staring at the street!”

“Was not! There are a lot of people milling about today. Luna could get hurt if they bumped into her. I was just making sure—”

“Yeah, yeah, chivalrous and disgustingly sweet of you to be so concerned, but we have a _job_ to do.”

“All right. Geez! You’re starting to sound like Mum.”

“Well, you’re acting like Fleur! Look, help me with the stuff and then you can daydream about your girlfriend all you want.”

“Girlfriend…if only…Ow! Quit channelling Mum!”

“Get a move on!”

***

Draco had to hand it to his witch: she was a credit to her House and as tenacious as they came. 

In spite of the bodyguards and the entourage that Ron had surrounded himself with, she still managed to corner him. One really couldn’t blame the others for not seeing the security breach. Who would’ve guessed that Hermione actually had balls? But here she was, in the men’s washroom, alone with a very terrified Ron.

“Merlin’s withered sacs, ’Mione! You’re not supposed to be here! This is the _men’s_ washroom!”

“You’ve been avoiding me, Ronald! Why have you been avoiding me?”

“I haven’t! I’ve…just been busy with work, that’s all.”

“Don’t lie! I checked your whole week’s schedule with Melanie, and I’ve seen your inbox. You’re not working on any big cases at the moment.”

“But I—there are a lot of cases I need to write up! I’m behind on my paperwork!”

“Really? Do you want me to help? You know I’m good with paperwork. I don’t have anything urgent in my inbox, either, so I could—”

“No, no, it’s all right! Thanks—I know you mean well, but it’s just…they’re all confidential, and I’m…not even allowed to discuss stuff with Harry unless he’s also on the investigation, so…“

“Well, why don’t you say you’re bringing some cases home to work on? You could come to my flat, and we could have dinner, and then I’ll help you. I promise I won’t tell anyone about what your cases are about. We can even perform an Unbreakable, if you need.”

“No, that’s all right, thanks. I—these are so sensitive that I can’t even remove the files from the office. They’ve—they’ve got alarm spells on them, and you wouldn’t want me to get in trouble, right?”

“Well, then forget the case files and just come over for dinner! I’ll cook your favourite spaghetti with meat sauce. I’m getting really good at making it after Molly taught me.”

“Thanks, but that’s—I can’t—I promised to help Dad clean out the shed tonight, and you know how tight the space is. We’ll be busy all night. Maybe another day?”

“Oh.” Hermione looked crestfallen, but then a look of confusion expressed itself. “Wait, didn’t George just finish cleaning it out with Arthur? I could’ve sworn I heard—”

“He did, but he never finished. And then Mum found another batch of stuff from somewhere in the house, so we have to organize those. Listen, I need to get back to work. I’ll talk to you later! Bye!” And with that, Ron ran out of the washroom, having forgotten why he was there in the first place. 

Hermione sighed and washed her hands. She nearly collided with the wizard who was entering and gave him a telling off to watch where he was going. The man was too shocked to respond.

Draco stood in the corner and had a quiet laugh. He had to hand it to Weasel King; he didn’t think the sod had enough brain cells to think as quickly on his feet as he did just now. Perhaps he should take their chess games more seriously.

***

“Oh, hello, George! What are you doing here?”

“We just got a new variety of Acid Pops! I looked it up, and the books say that Fwoopers have much tougher skin on their tongues than us, so it shouldn’t harm them.”

“Thank you. Pomegranate juice? I was just getting some for Euphenia.”

“I’d _love_ some! Hello, Euphenia! Can I call you Fanny?”

“Oh, that’s so clever! I’ve been calling her Euphy, but I think she likes Fanny better. Here’s your juice. Don’t gulp it down too quickly or you’ll cry and ruin the taste.”

“Thanks! I won’t. Acid Pop, Fanny?”

“Oh, look at her pirouetting! She’s so graceful. Oh! Are you all right, Fanny? You have to be careful or you’ll hurt your head bumping into the wall like that.”

“You’re so gentle with her, Luna. No wonder all the animals love you.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say ‘all’. I had an Occamy once, but she disappeared a week after laying her eggs. The eggs disappeared, too.”

“Well, I’m sure it must have been some unfortunate accident; you know there are unscrupulous people who steal Occamy eggs to make amulets. No pet in its right mind would ever want to leave you.”

“That’s sweet. Although anyone who’d want to make amulets out of the eggs would be disappointed when they find out the shell tarnishes as soon as the egg cracks. The young eat their own shells to help grow their wings, you know.”

“I didn’t! That’s _fascinating_! What colour are their wings?”

“Silly. Green, of course. How else can they hide in the bushes to catch prey?”

“Right. Oh hey, careful, Fanny! No more Acid Pops for you, young fledgling! You’re supposed to miss the ground when you fly, not ram into it!” 

“Oh, that’s _funny_! Flying is to miss hitting the ground! I’ve got to write that down and tell Daddy later.”

George blushed and found himself tongue-tied for the first time in his life. Luna kept giggling and repeating the phrase as she searched for a piece of parchment. She finally wrote on the cover of an old edition of The Quibbler. The clock chimed and Luna excused herself to go out and feed the chickens. George accompanied her, but finding that his wittiness had abandoned him, he made an excuse about needing to get back to the shop and said his goodbyes.

***

Draco cursed when he returned from the washroom to find Hermione’s office empty. But there was no doubt where she could be found. He went in search of Weasel King. Not finding him at his desk or anywhere in the Auror Office, Draco was about to head toward the elevators when he heard some muffled noises and banging sounds coming from the closed door near the lounge area. 

The next moment, the door flew open and a dishevelled Ron ran out, his shirt untucked, his hair mussed, and a smear of lipstick grazing his cheek. He ran toward Melanie’s desk, grabbed a Portkey from the cabinet, and disappeared. Meanwhile, a tearful Hermione had emerged from the supplies closet and was attempting to get to the elevators as discreetly as possible. While sharing the lift, Draco had to clasp his hands behind his back to stop himself from comforting her as she wiped her tears and scolded herself. The effects of the potion were not wearing off, but her body had adjusted to its presence, and she was showing signs of knowing that she was acting uncharacteristically, although she couldn’t figure out how to stop.

 _One more day should do it_ , Draco thought to himself. As soon as he found them _in flagrante delicto_ , he’d administer the antidote and extract her promise to uphold the Malfoy tradition.

***

“Frederick Gideon and George Fabian! I want a word. _Right. Now_!”

Fred and George whipped their heads around in unison at the angry voice. They turned a shade paler when they discovered it was Ginny and not Molly yelling their full names. 

“Everybody _out_!” The handful of customers dropped whatever they’d been holding and fled. 

“Ginny, you can’t go about scaring away our customers—”

“SHUT UP! Verity, out! Please. I don’t want to accidentally hex you.” Verity ran out the door. Ginny took a deep breath and then made sure that the door was locked and every source of external light shuttered. She advanced on her twin brothers who had moved toward the storage room, ready to escape through the back door. 

“What did you put in Hermione’s hot chocolate? I _know_ it was you! You were watching her like a hawk all day on Sunday. She came crying to me just now; she was so distraught that she left work _at three o’clock_! She couldn’t figure out why she was trying to snog the daylights out of Ron, _but I did_. You’d better have an antidote and a very thorough explanation of why you’re playing this mean trick on her!”

“Ginny, calm down!”

“It was Malfoy’s plan!”

“Gave us very strict instructions!”

“It’s to do with that silly tradition Hermione doesn’t want to perform!”

Fred and George mopped their brows in relief when Ginny made no move to hex them. Instead, she closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. The twins made mental notes to send one hundred red roses to her Quidditch coach to thank her for successfully instilling some discipline in their sister. 

“Tell me what the potion does and why Malfoy got you to do his dirty work. Leave nothing out. Once we’ve fixed things, the two of you are going to help me get back at that scabby Slytherin. And if I hear _one word_ of objection…”

***

Draco gave them a five-minute head-start before bursting into the room. He had to admire his witch’s resourcefulness, in spite of the clichéd scenario of ‘catching them in the boardroom’. He’d watched her plan the whole thing: from the official memo sent by her department secretary to the booking of the boardroom to the refreshments on the side table. She even had parchment and quills readied. The next group to make use of the room was going to be pleasantly surprised.

“’Mione, stop it! You don’t know what you’re doing! Gah! Malfoy, I swear this is not what it looks like…I mean, it _is_ , but I’m not—Merlin, ’Mione, what the hell did you do with my belt?”

“Excuse me, Granger…”

“What do you want, Malfoy? I’m kind of busy right now. Can’t it wait until later?”

“Actually, I was only going to offer you some champagne to toast your success at finally cornering Weasel King.”

“Have you gone off your rocker, too, you daft ferret?”

“ _Don’t_ call Ron that, you piddling prat! You—oh, thank you, don’t mind if I do, then. Oh, this is the good stuff.” Hermione drained the glass and placed it on the table. She then returned her focus on Ron. Before she made another move, however, she stiffened and then let out a gasp. She scrambled backwards until she hit the wall, her hands covering her mouth as she stared in horror at Ron’s dishevelled appearance. Then, she took one look at Draco’s carefully-bland expression, recalled her humiliating behaviour of the past three days, and fled, sobbing.

The next moment, Draco found himself on the floor, the back of his head and his nose in simultaneous pain. Ron stood over him. “You’re a first-class wanker, Malfoy! Whatever she may have said to hurt your pride, she didn’t deserve to be treated like that. You’d better be grovelling on your knees for an apology or else I’m siccing both our mums and Ginny on you. You’ll wish you were never born. Now, get!”

Draco ‘got’, but he apologized so thoroughly that he not only obtained Hermione’s forgiveness but her willingness to carry out the tradition.


	3. Act III

“Remember, you promised to only observe this evening and, at most, acknowledge any recognition of your past services. If I hear so much as a cough from any of you…“

“But Minerva, my hay fever always starts acting up this time of year—”

“Your nose hasn’t bothered you for over two hundred years, Vindictus. That’s very unlikely to change now.”

“But what if the smoke from the candles irritate my throat? You know I never got rid of that cough that killed me.”

“I seem to recall that you are rather allergic to sarcasm and not candle smoke, Phineas. Besides, to add to the festive atmosphere, Filius insisted on bringing out the fairy lights. But if you’re really concerned about that cough, I’m more than happy to cast a Silencing Charm. That way, you can cough with impunity and no one would be the wiser. Now that I’ve thought of it, perhaps a Silencing Charm for all of you would be best. It would certainly save me a lot of hassle.”

“Oh, come now, Minerva. It is the ceremony to re-open Hogwarts! Surely you don’t wish to put a damper on such—”

“You may all clap when it is appropriate. And smile and nod. But you _will not_ say a word to anyone or make any sort of comment on any of the goings-on. You have been portraits far too long: you’ve lost your sense of propriety when it comes to commentary, so I would prefer if you do not embarrass—”

“Well, what about Albus and young Snape? They can hardly—”

“Severus has always been the soul of discretion, and I doubt his personality will undergo any significant change, even after a few decades as a portrait. As for Albus, well, tact is something that never seemed to have been among his manifold skills—”

“You’re making me blush, Minerva!”

“—and becoming a portrait has somehow given him the mistaken impression that he is now free of all social constraints and can, therefore, utter anything he pleases.”

“If I had arms still, I’d slap your pert arse for that comment, Minnie dear.”

“Albus!” McGonagall was so aghast that she was left rather speechless. The other portraits chuckled. There were even whistles and a cat-call in agreement.

Minerva glared at them until she had complete silence. It they weren’t already dead…

“You do remember that the large landscape put up in the Great Hall for the occasion and your benefit does not have a Sticking Charm? And may I remind you that none of your portraits in this office have, either? If you would rather spend time in the hallway with Barnabas’ tapestry, that can be arranged.” There was a collective shudder. “I will say this one last time: behave…or else!”

***

“If I do say so myself, those are a _lot_ of chocoballs.”

“But look how pretty they are with the Hogwarts crest painted on!”

“It’s a good thing we will make back the money in triplicate—”

“At the very least. Although, the other sweet shops won’t be seeing so much as a sliver of chocoball for the next month, since we’ve cleared out the suppliers in three countries.”

“We really should teach them how to cast that Duplication Charm that we perfected for our fireworks—”

“But what if they accidentally flood the world with Cockroach Clusters?”

“Oh, the horror! Do you think that’s even possible?”

“You know ol’ Cornfoot’s taken on a new apprentice? He’s been complaining the lad’s turned a whole crate of blood-flavoured lollies worthless by adding Black Bryony powder instead of Elderberry.”

“No! Good thing they don’t supply the world’s Acid Pops. Can you imagine…“

“Well, never mind. We need to get these beauties to Hogwarts. Good thing for Extension Charms, eh, Gred?”

“Couldn’t’ve put it better myself, Forge.”

***

“You blokes _sure_ these are safe to pass out? Don’t want any professors chasing after students and vice versa. McGonagall will hang us by our balls…“

“Oi! We’re not Ron trying to pull a prank for the first time, Lee! There’s age-restriction powder mixed into all of them. We want to do market research, not get detention.”

“Fine, fine, just checking. When do I find out who I’m supposed to be ‘researching’?” 

“When all the chocoballs have been handed out. Grab a drink and come find us—”

“Although, stay away from the red currant rum. That’s been randomly spiked with generic love potion. Don’t want to fall for the first hag you lay your eyes on.”

“You sure McGonagall won’t accidentally down one and figure it out?”

“Don’t worry, we checked; she hates the stuff. Besides, we’ve got Angie to keep an eye out and keep the old girl topped on her favourite gillywater.”

“Good to see you’ve thought it through.”

“It’s a _prank_ , Lee! When have we ever been slipshod?”

“Well, let the show begin!”

***

Draco had vowed he would be the epitome of the devoted fiancé tonight—after all, he _did_ win the argument—but after seeing the telltale signs of his special potion, he looked around for the Weasley twins. Sure enough, they were sequestered to the side, observing the crowd and making laughing comments to each other when they espied certain pairs. Another glance told him to make sure he and Hermione avoided the red currant rum. Catching their eyes, he smirked and saluted them with his Firewhisky. They cracked identical grins, the same ones they’d shown him when he handed them his bottle of modified lust potion.

“—isn’t that right, Draco?” Oh yes, the role of the attentive fiancé. He rejoined the conversation.

***

Hermione was baffled. She’d been chatting with some of the DA members when Pansy, who she’d swear had been talking with Draco and their Slytherin clique, appeared beside her and _volunteered a compliment._

“Hello, Hermione! That’s a lovely shade of blue you’re wearing; not as interesting as the periwinkle that you wore for the Yule Ball in Fourth but certainly soft enough to bring out the warm chocolate of your eyes and hair. Have you considered an ice blue? I think that’d be even more stunning. Maybe a strapless to show off those shoulders.”

Even more flabbergasting, _Seamus_ intercepted before Hermione could recover sufficiently to reply. “You look pretty spiffy yourself, Parkinson.”

Pansy pouted. “But apparently not enough to be called by my first name.”

“Well, Fancy Pansy, then.” 

Was Pansy giggling?

“You’re looking rather handsome yourself, Seamus Finnigan.”

“Ah, but you’ve always known that. Caught you staring a few times when we were in school. Noticed your sexy arse while you were over there with your bunch. Glad it wiggled its way over to me.”

“Well, if you would be such a dear and get me a drink, I’ll return the favour and check _yours_ out.” As Seamus promptly sauntered over to the refreshments table, Pansy sighed. “He’s so cute. And witty! I don’t know why I never noticed before.” Hermione could only stare.

When Seamus returned, Pansy took a polite sip and then cajoled him onto the dance floor. She looked completely besotted with him and did not even protest when his hands drifted lower and lower down her back. Hermione couldn’t understand it. Even _Blaise_ had been admonished to “not try anything funny” at the recent ball, and he’d only held Pansy a bit too close. 

As Hermione tried to make sense of the situation, she noticed the portraits of the former Headmasters and Headmistresses nudging each other and pointing at various members of the assembly. A suspicion began forming, and a more careful surveillance found Fred and George paying particular attention to certain pairs, whose behaviours were certainly indicative of some sort of potions enhancement. Remembering that Seamus and Pansy had both had the red currant rum, Hermione spent a few minutes inspecting the wizards gathering at that section of drinks. Yes, there was definitely double-Weasley tampering, if the sudden—“amourous”—behaviour of one in ten wizards was any indication. She would be avoiding that section of the refreshments table for sure, and she’d have to warn Draco as well.

***

Minerva’s stern look became more and more prominent as the evening progressed. She had been unable to detect the source of the erratic behaviour displayed by people who, certainly, should know better. As soon as she’d realized that something was amiss, she’d carefully scrutinized first the adult and then the students’ refreshments table. The random drinks from the adult table yielded nothing. She was happy to note that not only was bezoar powder mixed into the students’ goblets but someone—probably Irma, who had always disapproved of noisy students—had added a dash of Calming Draught to ensure the students would not be as affected by the prevailing mood.

She was loathe to ask them, but the gathered former Headmasters and Headmistresses had clearly figured out the origin of the problem and were making snide—if completely silent—remarks to one another as they moved about the large painting to point out certain individuals. Minerva squared her shoulders and approached them. She and Dilys had always had the greatest rapport, and that was who she beckoned to speak with in the privacy of the small chamber off the Great Hall. To her shock, Dilys refused to divulge anything. And to Minerva’s increasing consternation, the other portraits reacted similarly. Even Severus, normally so disapproving of potions abuse—for there was no doubt as to the type of mischief involved—only offered a handful of words when told to speak freely: “There will not be any lasting or serious harm.” Minerva could only take small comfort in the fact that he, at least, did not offer a saucy wink or grin. She did not even bother to to take Albus to task, knowing he was enjoying the spectacle the most. Well, they were in for a surprise when they returned to the office. She sighed and returned to the Great Hall to keep a closer watch on the crowd.

***

After Draco managed to prevent Blaise from choking the hapless McLaggen to death and to then discreetly dump some antidote into the Gryffingit’s drink—the look of horror that had the wanker hightailing to the other side of the room was priceless—he sauntered over to the unobtrusive but unobstructed corner where the Weasley twins were orchestrating their master prank. 

“Quite the prank you’ve pulled tonight, gentlemen.”

“Have no idea what you’re talking about, Malfoy—”

“Market research. We’re merely conducting the final phase of our testing of our new product before making it available to the public. The numbers are looking good—”

“And don’t they all just look so happy?”

“I’m not sure that ‘happy’ is quite the term to use, Weasley F. I just prevented a murder from occurring. Blaise was about ready to take off McLaggen’s head, Azkaban be damned.”

“Well, can’t say we blame the sod. Zabini’s mum could pass as a full Veela; give Fleur a run for her money.”

“Although, how she could even tolerate those horrible pick-up lines he was trying to palm off on her—even worse than Ron’s silly attempts! It’s going to be great to deflate him the next time he boasts about his ways with the ladies. Gobby git!”

“Oh, Blaise’s mum has been hit on ever since she grew breasts. I’m sure she knows every line in existence. I’m surprised she was so restrained. She usually has no qualms about laughing in their faces.”

“Well, I hope that’s not a sign that she’s interested—”

“What number would McLaggen be if they were to—”

“Although, to have one’s new stepfather only a year older than oneself—”

“If you two think you can make me sick with that image, then you forget that I’ve developed a high tolerance for disgust, mostly thanks to your youngest brother and his scarred best friend.”

“Well, should we ever want to learn to develop a high tolerance for Ron—”

“We’ll be sure to come to you for advice. In the meantime, we’ll just use torture to get him out of our hair—”

“Which was a technique that you’d perfected in school, Malfoy. So, the fact that you’d rather tolerate Ron than torture him shows clear—”

“Finish that thought, Weasley G…I have a large bottle of antidote, and I’m not afraid to use it.”

“Hey, now, don’t be a spoilsport—”

“You’re starting to sound like Hermione, Malfoy—”

“Who would’ve guessed that Malfoys can grow morals at such an age—”

“Well, if _you_ had Hermione shackled to your balls—”

“I didn’t realize he _had_ balls for her to hang off—”

Draco began reaching into an inner pocket when Fred and George protested that they were only joking. George pointed out that since Draco had developed a tolerance for Ron, surely he could handle a bit of ribbing from them. Draco glared at them and then sauntered off.

***

As soon as they’d evenly divided their eight pairs—Fred had insisted that George only take charge of two pairs in case some extra prodding was needed to help Neville—George had begun tailing Neville. He and his gran had gone their separate ways after arriving. George was a bit alarmed when Neville headed toward the red currant rum; he had no idea if a tainted goblet would tamper with the modified potion contained in the chocoballs, but thankfully, Ginny intercepted in time to offer the correct drink. After she’d extracted the whole story about the modified lust potion from them, she brooked no arguments about getting involved in setting up Neville. She reminded them that in spite of Neville’s newfound confidence, Lavender still saw him as the shy, awkward boy she knew in school and would need a mild lust potion to change her mind. She may have looser morals than other single witches, but encouragement would be needed. In any case, George had developed a deep respect for Neville: after being one of the ringleaders of the Hogwarts division of the Potter Resistance Movement in his final year and then lobbing the head off Voldudley’s basilisk, Neville had most certainly come out of his shell. He had come a long way from the boy Ron had said nearly killed himself the first time on a broom.

George smiled when he saw Neville walk up to Lavender. His smile broadened when the witch giggled at something Neville said. He wondered what acts of rashness would transpire before the night was—

“Hello, George.”

“Luna! Didn’t see you walk in! How’s Fanny?”

“She’s wonderful. I discovered she also gets excited on Jelly Slugs, so I’ve had to hide the bag I bought the other day.”

“You should’ve brought them back to the shop and return—I mean, exchanged them for something else. Has she tried Pumpkin Pasties?”

“No, not yet. I was planning on trying that next. I’m thirsty. I think I will get a drink now.”

“ _Stay away from the red currant rum!_ That is, I noticed it was stronger than usual. Some wizard must’ve donated a batch that’s been sitting in his dungeons for ten years.”

“I don’t like red currant rum. Or Firewhisky. I burned my finger when I was seven and got too close to the fire. Why burn my insides?”

“Was there any damage? Did your dad bring you to St. Mungo’s?”

“Silly, my mum put a salve on it and made it all better. She was always getting burns from the experiments she did, you know.”

“Well, good that these beautiful fingers are safe.”

“Silly, how can they be? I take care of magical creatures. Raeka bit me yesterday while I was feeding her.”

“What? Let me see!” George saw a patch of pink, exposed skin on her right index finger and kissed it tenderly.

“That’s what Daddy used to do, too. It’s sweet.”

“We have to figure out a way to stop anymore harm to your hands. We’ll start with me getting your drink for you. Wait here.” 

As George walked toward the drinks table, he suddenly remembered Neville. Scanning the growing crowd, he finally spotted Neville and Lavender on the dance floor. Lavender’s arms were wrapped around Neville’s neck, and his nose was buried in her hair. George grinned. He’d have to check on them soon. But first, Luna’s drink.

***

Fred really loved his little sister. And when the night’s festivities were done, he’d tell her so. 

He had watched from his corner in the Great Hall as she walked up to Flint, the box of chocoballs in hand, and dared him to eat the lot. When she’d first found out about their planned revenge on the Slytherin slimeball, she’d insisted that she be the one to administer the modified potion. She’d also decided that the three drops were to be evenly divided into twelve chocoballs, which were to be packaged in a box for her. And she’d warned both of them to keep their distance and let her handle the situation. Well, she did just that. It was too bad he’d been too far away to hear her taunts, but whatever it was that she’d said to Flint, it’d worked because he’d scowled and grabbed the box from her, stuffing his face until they disappeared down his maw. 

Scanning the Great Hall, it took Fred a few minutes to locate their other prey in the vast space, enlarged magically to accommodate the large numbers who had confirmed their attendance. Fred grinned. Ginny was right: Romilda Vane really _was_ a greedy pig. Ginny’d made a show of stashing away some chocoballs “to enjoy later”, and Vane had taken the bait without even pausing to think about why she was the only one who noticed Ginny’s actions. The slight smears of chocolate at the corners of her mouth and on her fingertips proved she wasn’t as vulture-like as Flint, but she gobbled down those chocoballs almost as quickly. What a pair they were! 

Across the room, George winked at him before turning his attention back on Luna. It looked as though Fred would have to pick up the slack and look after Smith and his redhead on George’s behalf. Good thing Neville seemed to have things sorted with Lavender, so unless catastrophe struck, Fred wouldn’t need to watch out for _them_ as well as the others. 

Maybe he could get Angie to help keep an eye on Neville...

***

When Lee had first found out about Flint, he’d been disgruntled that the twins wouldn’t let him keep tabs on the git. But they had appeased him with spying on Percy, and he had to admit, it was highly entertaining. Millicent Bulstrode may have grown into her looks since leaving Hogwarts, but she was still the aggressive, opinionated, grating witch he remembered. And Percy did not know how to get rid of her.

When the potion had first taken effect, she had tried to play coy by slipping a Firewhisky into Perce’s hand and winking broadly before walking off. A baffled Percy had stared after her in complete confusion. He did not touch the drink. Undeterred, Bulstrode began making her presence more obvious. She started following him around as he moved from group to group, gladhanding and chatting up the bigshots. She began flirting with him, much to his embarrassment and the amusement of their audiences. Finally, Percy managed to slip away, using the loo as his excuse.

“Come right back, Red. I’ll be waiting for you.” And she was. Percy thought he could slip back into the Great Hall unnoticed, but she wasn’t a Slytherin for nothing. She pounced on him and pulled him onto the dance floor, where she wrapped herself very, _very_ tightly around him. Lee nearly convulsed with laughter as he saw Percy’s vain attempts to put some space between them. No such luck. In fact, Percy was forced to partner her for the next three dances.

Lee almost choked on his drink when Bulstrode suddenly planted a wet kiss on Percy’s lips and then grabbed him by his tie and dragged him out into the corridors. Frantically grabbing hold of Fred to get the twin to look after his other pair, Lee rushed out of the Hall and was just in time to see the stumbling Percy disappear around the corner. Slowing down so as not to be heard and casting a Disillusionment, Lee quietly made his way toward the alcove that Bulstrode had pushed Percy into. Percy’s protests were becoming more and more pronounced and panicked until, suddenly, he let out a torturous and muffled groan. Lee peeked.

Bulstrode had Percy in a liplock, and her hand was shoved down Percy’s trousers, stroking him furiously. “I’m going to make you scream so hard, Red, McGonagall will come running, thinking someone’d been murdered.” She shoved his trousers and briefs about his knees and was about to get down on hers when she let out a scream. Then, she slapped Percy. 

Before she stomped off, she shrieked that she would never have thought Percy would stoop so low as to consort with scum like Draco Malfoy and that she’d better not see even his shadow within ten feet of her hereafter. Otherwise, he could kiss his equipment goodbye. 

When Percy recovered from his daze, he let out a string of obscenities that Lee was floored to discover existed in his vocabulary. Percy pulled up his trousers and ran into the boys’ washroom.

***

Minerva had had enough.

It was bad enough that the congenial and festive mood was inducing more merriment and noise than the Hall was accustomed to, especially in the past several years, and the knowledge that some of the guests were intoxicated with a behavioural modifier was already more than irritating, but none of that was just cause for such a level of _indecency._ She had thankfully intercepted the disgusting pair before their lewd conduct became completely obscene. She had not even felt a twinge of guilt as she _Imperio_ ’d and marched them out of the Hall. The astute Mrs. Norris had quickly fetched Filch, to whom she gave strict instructions to oversee detention for the pair. He had free reign to discipline them as he saw fit, provided that they did not leave the classroom. Minerva charged Mrs. Norris to inform her if the pair caused Filch any trouble.

As she returned to the Great Hall, Minerva had half a mind to reprimand the Flints and the Vanes for their children’s scandalous scene, but she had not even crossed the threshold when she heard screaming. Turning abruptly around, she retraced her steps and saw Mrs. Norris racing toward her. A limping and gasping Filch followed not far behind. 

It was all Minerva could do to keep from murdering the pair at the sight that accosted her. The semi-nakedness, the groping, the disgusting noises…Minerva spelled them apart. Under different circumstances, she would’ve been gratified to see students wilt so quickly and sit so meekly in their chairs as Marcus Flint and Romilda Vane were doing now. She gave them another disapproving glance before turning to Filch, who was still clutching his heart. 

“Headmistress, those two…I’d just told them to sit still while I went to my office to get stuff for them to do when they— they—they tore off each other’s clothes and—and—” Filch wheezed as he fumbled to explain the horror that had met his eyes. “Then they looked at each other and screamed and starting swearing. Never in all my years have I heard such filthy words, not even in the pubs! I’ve always told Dumbledore that it was a crime to have banned whipping because that’s exactly what these two needed in school. I tell you, the school is going to be ruined if we keep letting these fiends in! And after tonight, I have half a mind to—”

“Argus, we will deal with the question of disciplining the entire student population later. What you haven’t told me is why, if they were arguing with each other when you left, they recommenced their…actions…by the time I came back. And you know better than to leave students unattended in such a way. I’d already instructed Mrs. Norris to come find me if there was trouble.”

“But Headmistress, I swear I don’t—they weren’t touching each other, so I—you know I can’t—”

Minerva sniffed as Filch continued to sputter uninformative half-sentences and finally silenced him with a look. Filch stood aside, muttering to himself. She turned her attention toward the miscreants and looked at them in silence until they squirmed. Then, she asked them, very precisely, to tell her what happened in as concise a narrative as possible. Romilda sulkily but obediently revealed that she’d been feeling a compulsion all evening to…be affectionate toward Flint, but for some reason, as soon as she saw him naked, the desire had disappeared, and she’d felt only horror and embarrassment. They’d accused each other of using a lust potion to induce their strange behaviour but then thought, when they paused for breath, why not finish what was started? 

“I see.” Minerva would never understand youngsters. True, she did not regret the calling to impart knowledge on bright and promising minds, and she’d had the pleasure of meeting several talented wizards and witches over the years—Hermione Granger, for example—but the rest of the time, like now, she wondered why she didn’t smother them all in their beds. “Well, it seems that respect for the traditions of Hogwarts on this momentous occasion has no hold on your minds. I had hoped, by removing you from the intoxicating atmosphere of the Great Hall, you would at least have regained some self-respect, but I overestimated your abilities. Your parents, while never outstanding in school, were nonetheless decent, well-behaved students who knew the importance of courtesy and self-restraint. I shall be apprising them of what has transpired in this classroom and letting them decide what to do with you. I had hoped that, as former students of this prestigious school, you’d set a good example for those still in attendance. Apparently not. However, although I seem to have little influence over your actions as I had in the past, you are still answerable to your parents. 

“But since I currently have you in detention, make yourselves decent and turn your chairs so that you are sitting back-to-back.” After the two complied, Minerva stuck them to their seats with a Sticking Charm. “You will remain here the rest of the evening to complete your detention with Mr. Filch. When the Ceremony is over, I shall bring your parents to claim you. And Mr. Filch, try not to let them out of your sight this time.”

After McGonagall disappeared from view and Mrs. Norris distracted by some mice scurrying down the corridor, Fred and Ginny emerged from their hiding place, removed the Invisibility Cloak, and grinned at each other. Fred hugged her tightly to him, and, giggling quietly, the brother and sister made their way back to the party.

***

Lee patrolled the hallway, peering into all the known “make-out” alcoves for his pair. He had only turned away from Ernie and Daphne Greengrass for a moment to quench his thirst when they had disappeared. Ernie had been playing out his infatuation with her by being the attentive suitor, getting her drinks, kissing only the back of her hand, escorting her onto the dance floor, showing what a decent bloke he was. Of course, Ernie made the mistake of getting her the rum, and two goblets added to the existing lust potion in the chocoball was a lethal dose. Things could’ve been worse, Lee supposed. If hers had been Malfoy’s potion… Daphne’s lust inevitably won in the end, and Lee saw her overrule Ernie’s protestations by straddling him and snogging the daylights out of him. He had cast a few charms around them so that they wouldn’t be noticed or interrupted before going for that drink. Lee cursed under his breath. If he didn’t find them before the potions wore off, he’d kick himself.

Moaning caught his attention. Heading carefully toward the sound, Lee was surprised to find an unfamiliar nook. Not that he’d ever been the King Slut of the school, but he’d had his share of fun, so he was stunned to find a snog-spot he’d overlooked. 

Lee was even more stunned to stumble upon Seamus and Pansy Parkinson going at it. Or rather, Seamus trying to convince Parkinson to go for it. He begged, wheedled, teased, and ground against her to no avail. Parkinson had unleashed her inner Gryffindor and was stubbornly resisting until she heard him tell her he loved her. And in spite the potion addling his brain and the blood draining south, Seamus was still not Slytherin enough to lie.

Lee didn’t have time for this. Wherever Fred was, he’d certainly stopped caring about how things were playing out between this pair, but Lee hadn’t given up on his, so, with a flick of his wand, he readjusted their outerwear so that the items were in a heap on the floor. Then, he made sure Pansy showed enough skin to deactivate Seamus’ preoccupation. 

Seamus came to with a jolt. He turned beet-red. Then, he mumbled an apology, gathered his clothes, and bolted. Lee was stunned. He’d expected the Irishman to at least fumble through an attempt to try and explain, which would’ve bought Lee some time while he came up with a plan to administer the antidote to the witch. He didn’t have to bother now. Parkinson sat, forlorn. Admission of love was one way to alleviate the effects of the love potion; rejection was the other, less acceptable method.

Lee was not a callous person, but he knew he would only make the situation worse by making his presence known. So, he left Parkinson to wallow in her misery.

He finally found his pair in an alcove not too far away. He was relieved that he hadn’t missed out on the grand finale, but with Seamus and Parkinson still fresh on his mind, he was not deriving as much pleasure as anticipated and was relieved when it was all over. Lee diligently noted Daphne screaming Ernie’s first name as she orgasmed and Ernie shouting that he loved her. He quietly turned away to let them deal with the aftermath in privacy.

***

Fred had a headache. First, George had abandoned him and their “market research” for Luna; it seemed his matchmaking was working a bit too well. Second, keeping track of pairs who would not stay in one room was running him ragged. Ginny had haughtily told him that she was not his minion and had other, more interesting things to attend to, like dancing; a few minutes ago, she also reminded him not-too-gently that he still owed her a task to complete. And now, Lee told him that he was resigning from the position of co-prankster. Seems things hadn’t turned out well for Seamus and Parkinson, and Lee was blaming himself. Fred had not seen them disappear and had been too distracted keeping track of the others as well as keeping an eye on McGonagall. He already knew that Angie was getting annoyed that he wasn’t paying enough attention to her.

Fred sighed. He and George had been a bit too ambitious with this project. But then, he hadn’t anticipated that love would trump joke. Guess love really was the greatest force known to mankind.

Well, nothing to be done but troubleshoot. George, he would leave to his own devices. The first thing to do was get Lee out of the doldrums. A Cheering Charm would do just the trick. It wouldn’t hurt to cast two more for Seamus and Parkinson, either. Flint and Vane were out of his hands, and Neville seemed to be doing well, if Lavender tugging him out into the corridors was any indication. Neville was an easy one to coax the truth out of, so the story could wait until the morrow. Lee had recounted everything that’d happened between Perce and Bulstrode and had even supplied a copy of the memory for later viewing. McLaggen was over and done with. 

So, that left Zacharias Smith and Michael Corner. 

Fred had last seen Smith hankering after that fiery redhead in Charlie’s year—he _still_ hadn’t figured out her name—and Warrington’s baby sister was draped all over Corner on the dance floor. After a quick assessment, Fred decided that Smith and his redhead required his attention first. He moved into position.

***

“ _Who_ is that bedraggled vagabond our little Cressida is dancing with? They are standing much too close to one another. _Caius_!” 

“ _Mum_! You made me slosh my Firewhisky all over my robes! Why can’t you yell across the room like the other mothers when you want me?”

“How uncouth! A summoning is evermore quick and tidy. Never mind your robes. Who is Cressida dancing with?”

“Dunno. Some scruffy bloke.”

Draco couldn’t help eavesdropping and had been musing as he stared at the couple in question. The bloke was one of the DA ragtags that he’d been forced to acknowledge in public. He was looking flattered yet completely bewildered to have the bossy little princess clinging to him. Cressie had always made a point of disregarding her mother’s strictures whenever possible. Now, what was his name? Street … pavement … roadkill … _Ah!_ “Excuse me, Mrs. Warrington, I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation. His name is Michael Corner. Ravenclaw.”

“Never heard of the family. His father must be some riffraff shopkeeper or Ministry minion. Certainly not someone to claim as an acquaintance in polite company. Look at those trousers! Really, what was Cressida thinking? I’m sure she came with the Nott boy. Now that one wouldn’t embarrass. Why, what in Juno’s name—?”

“Oi! You bloody tosser! Get your paws off my sister!” 

Draco chuckled as he watched Caius stomp over. Poor Corner; he was valiantly trying to push Cressie away, but she’d wrapped both arms around his head and looked like she was going to suck the last breath out of him. Caius managed to scrape Cressie off and push her out of harm’s way before planting a firm fist into Corner’s face. There was the unmistakable crunch of a collapsing bridge. Sprout intervened before further damage could be done, and Caius sneered before turning his back on the sprawled Corner and dragging the distraught Cressie toward their parents, who quickly hustled them toward the doors. Draco was sure they would be Apparating home as soon as they were beyond the gates. It was too bad that she’d only ingested the garden-variety lust potion; else, it would’ve been amusing to see what she would do to try and get Corner naked.

***

Fred came to the wearisome conclusion that love potions were boring, even when they interacted with lust potions. Smith had surprisingly gotten the girl in the end. Apparently, she was in the habit of dating younger men, although she usually had to initiate. So, for her, being chased was refreshing. Still, it was boring, especially when compared to the frolicking that Flint and Vane pulled. 

Fred sighed and consulted the list. Yep, all accounted for, finally. The other non-tailored potions had fizzled within two hours, so any hanky-panky still gandering about was not of his making or concern. Rubbing his throbbing temples, he ambled over to the students’ refreshment table and grabbed a goblet of pumpkin juice. Feeling slightly restored, he decided that some fresh air would be nice. He needed to clear his head.

***

Draco was just wondering where his lovely fiancée had disappeared to when he was pulled aside by Fred. “Listen, Malfoy, I swear we didn’t do this on purpose! I don’t know _how_ they got a hold of the ‘special’ chocoballs and _why_ it’s affecting them like this, since we didn’t target them. You sure there isn’t some sort of weird residual effect when your modified potion is not cleared from the body and the regular variety is taken in?” Draco was confused until he saw what Fred was pointing at. And then he saw red.

Stalking toward the snogging Hermione and Ron—he was going to string the Weasel King up by his fingernails and then slowly flay him with a knife!—he did not see Ginny approaching him from another direction until he found himself _Impedimenta_ ’d on the spot. And Silenced. She then dug for the bottle of antidote in his jacket pocket and Vanished it.

“Like playing mean tricks on people, Malfoy? Well, how do you like this little one I cooked up for you? Still as funny as seeing them at the Ministry? _You_ , Mr. Scrotty Slytherin Scunt, are long overdue for a taste of your own medicine. Glare all you want! You deserve this. If we weren’t in such a public place, I’d hex you until I was sure you became the last of your line. But for now, I’ll settle for the elimination of that dratted Malfoy tradition in return for the antidote—that _I’ll_ give them. Do we have a deal?”

His voice returned, Draco snarled, “Only if she agrees to chuck the garter-tossing.”

Hermione suddenly stopped snogging Ron and turned her head. “Deal.” 

Before Draco could express his outrage, Ginny cut him off. “It’s all _your_ fault that we had to do this! We’ve already let you off easy. Don’t make me ‘accidentally’ spike their drinks for real.” Ron had, meanwhile, approached with a scowl and added some choice words of his own. Knowing self-preservation was now of utmost importance, Draco swallowed his pride and anger. Satisfied that they had one-upped the dicksplat, the sib-pair allowed Hermione to take her shot. 

To their eternal disappointment, Hermione merely released him from his frozen position. 

Immediately, Draco grabbed hold of her and kissed her long and possessively. “Mine.”

“Hardly.”

He kissed her again. “Mine!”

“Maybe. Once in a while, when you're really, really good.”

“I’ll show you ‘good’,” he growled, taking out and activating his departure Portkey. He and a giggling Hermione disappeared a moment later.

Ron, who had been standing beside Ginny, watching the lovers, sighed. ”She’s a terrific kisser. For a moment, I forgot that we're practically brother and sister.”

Ginny patted his shoulder. “C’mon, let's go find you a witch to shag. If need be, we'll bewitch her for the evening.”


	4. Epilogue

The wedding was properly lavish. According to Hermione, things would've been even more over-the-top but for her mother's intervention. Apparently, Charmaine came from a family who had been landowners for generations, so for them, tasteful simplicity was key. An acceptable compromise was finally reached, and the bride could not have looked more radiant.

Fred held onto Angelina's hand and looked on with glee. The “market research” had been a success, and Malfoy's modified lust potion was flying off the shelves. The prat had wrangled to keep rights of ownership, of course, and was thus receiving royalties, even though the product did not bear his name (Fred could imagine the looks of horror on his parents' faces if it was otherwise), but as he was a much better potions brewer and was open to collaborating on further improvements, the twins had agreed to his terms.

Fred spotted Percy and Millicent diligently and carefully avoiding one another, making sure they were separated by the entire guest list. What had come as a surprise was the pairing of Seamus and Parkinson. The potions had presumably unearthed a heretofore unacknowledged mutual attraction. And while successfully getting back at Flint and forever boosting Neville's self-confidence had been great, Fred was most satisfied with the secret hand he'd had in his twin's budding romance with Luna. It had only taken four doses to turn the attraction permanent. Fred had even delayed the administering of the last dose because it would've coincided with the Hogwarts Re-Opening bash, but given how distracted George had been the entire evening, it was clear that the potion was not the only thing influencing his reaction to Luna. Fred smiled. He had just overheard George telling her his latest variation of “ _A centaur, a niffler, and a goblin walk into a bar ..._ ” George-in-love told the lamest jokes, but his quirky love interest enjoyed them, so Fred had not ragged him on it.

“Look, Fred, it seems that mixing love and lust together into one potion is not producing adverse effects.” Turning his head in the direction Angie was pointing, Fred saw Oliver looking tenderly into the eyes of Astoria Greengrass while groping her butt on the dance floor. She didn't seem to mind one bit.

“You know, ‘market research’ can be better performed among the throng. C'mon.”

Fred allowed himself to be led toward the crowd of dancers.


End file.
